


what are you waiting for ('cause someone could love you more)

by braedens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Blue Neighborhood, Childhood Friends, Closeted Character, Coming Out, M/M, Physical Abuse, Sexuality Crisis, more tags to come, this has a happier ending then the blue neighborhood trilogy, troye sivan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6221083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braedens/pseuds/braedens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking back, now, Stiles was sure he had done it on purpose. Sure, he could have left when he had saw someone there from yards back, even though this creek was his spot, his safe place. He could have left the mysterious boy there, the one who, despite Stiles having lived in the small town of Beacon Hills (population, like, 10) for his entire life, had never met before. But, the overwhelming urge, the itch, the white noise in his head wouldn’t quit, compelling him that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to know this boy.</p><p>God, he wishes he hadn’t now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what are you waiting for ('cause someone could love you more)

**Author's Note:**

> for beth. (myimpaladreams)   
> <3

**_White noise in my mind, won’t calm down._ **

**_You’re all I think about._ **

 

When Stiles first met Derek, Beacon Hills was calm and warm for the summer, and the creek was quiet, side for the gentle ripples along the surface.  
  
Stiles was eight years old, had moppy brown hair and wide, embered eyes. He wore clothes two sizes too big, and a brain to match. He had an endless supply of intelligence on information way past his years.

Derek, was, well he was a polar opposite. Derek was ten when they met. His dark hair was short, tousled in the oddest ways. He had green eyes that, at the time, Stiles could only describe as gems. Emeralds.

Derek was also quiet. When they met for the first time, Derek was sitting at the edge of the creek, knees pulled up to his chest and palm filled with small pebbles, chucking them into the water in increments. Stiles had stood there, Derek’s back to him, for a few long moments, before he let the crunch of leaves under his foot give him away.  
  
Thinking back, now, Stiles was sure he had done it on purpose. Sure, he could have left when he had saw someone there from yards back, even though this creek was his spot, his safe place. He could have left the mysterious boy there, the one who, despite Stiles having lived in the small town of Beacon Hills (population, like, 10) for his entire life, had never met before. But, the overwhelming urge, the itch, the white noise in his head wouldn’t quit, compelling him that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to know this boy.  
  
God, he wishes he hadn’t now.  
  
At the time, Derek had whisked his head around, eyes wide in surprise. They stood, staring at each other, neither of them moving.  
  
“Hi,” Stiles says quietly, as if speaking any louder might disrupt the universe as it is.  
  
The boy blinked back at him, saying nothing, but not moving either.  
  
Stiles, for some strange reason, took this as an invite, the sound of broken twigs and grass under his sneakers and he moved to sit next to the raven boy.  
  
“I’m Stiles,” he says, offering a smile as he settles on the ground. The boy’s eyes followed him, calculating. His brows furrowed.

“That’s not a name.” he mumbled, as if the pure idea of Stiles’ name offended him.  
  
Stiles’ head shook vehemently. “Yes, it is. It’s my name. Stiles.”  
  
A wind shook the trees, rustling their branches, causing both of them to look up above them. Lightly, a mess of yellow and green fell, leaves encircling them.

“Derek,” the boy said, after a beat, causing Stiles to look back at him. “My name is Derek.”

Stiles couldn’t help the incredibly grin on his face, his warmth possibly spreading when Derek gave him the smallest of smiles in return.  
  
He reached over, taking the pebble currently occupying Derek’s hand, imitating his and chucking it into the creek. It fell into the water with a _plop,_ rippling the water.

“Do you want to be friends, Derek?”

  
  
**_Running on the music and night highs,_ **

**_But when the light's out,_ **

**_It's me and you now._ **

 

It shouldn’t have been that easy. At least, that’s what Stiles tells himself now. Back when they were kids, it was so easy. So simple.  
  
The two boys started to do everything together, no question. No school meant infinite time to explore, battle, speculate. They went on missions, took risky dares, and didn’t care. They cooled off by buying colas at the local convenience store and running as fast as their legs could take them and as long as the graveled road would lead.

  
**_'Cause there's still too long to the weekend,_ **

**_Too long till I drown in your hands._ **

 

Stiles didn’t expect his heart to bend and break at the age of sixteen.

But as he’s sitting in his bed, Derek’s body covering his as he holds onto his waist, face pushed into his neck, he wonders if maybe the universe doesn’t put age in the factor of love.

 

**_Too long since I've been a fool._ **

  
One day, Derek said he had a surprise.  
  
“Go get your bike,” he told Stiles eagerly, his hands gripping tightly to the handlebars of his own.  
  
At this point, Stiles had yet to question anything Derek asked.

Beacon Hills is more of a dry heat this time of year, causing Derek’s hair to stick to his forehead. Sometimes he thinks about asking his mom to cut it short like Stiles’.

“Where are we going?” Stiles pants, pedaling twice as fast to keep up with Derek’s pace.

Derek laughs. “You’ll see,”

It’s the pier. It’s quite far from their neighborhood, and Stiles’ dad never wanted to take him down. He feels like he’s disobeying some unspoken rule, but he pushes the knot in his stomach down when his feet touch the ground.

“What are we doing here?” Stiles asks, steading his bike against a tree. This side of the pier is pretty empty, aside from a few fishermen who are doing upkeep.

“You ever jump off a pier?”

 

**_Leave this blue neighborhood,_**

 

Stiles blinks. “No,” he draws out questionably. Derek has a wide grin on his face, and Stiles contemplates backing out, because something like adrenaline is running through him and he’s spent some time understanding how to keep that at bay. “Is that what we’re doing?”

Derek must sense the uneasiness in his voice, because he takes Stiles’ hand in his, tugging at it lightly. This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve held hands; Stiles is very much the scaredy-cat, and he’s constantly latching on to Derek. “Come on, we’ll do it together.”

Derek drags him to the edge of the pier, where the dark, moist wood disappears around the blue of the water. It smells like salt and linens, and the feel of Derek’s hand in his is clammy and warm.

“Do you want me to hold your hand when we jump?” Derek asks, turning to Stiles when they step to the edge.

 

**_Never knew loving could hurt this good._ **

 

Stiles nods vehemently.

It happens in a blur; the flash of Derek’s wicked grin, the entwining of fingers. All Stiles really can think about is the impending fear and the knot in his stomach, and when he feels the pull of Derek’s hand as they run off the pier, the breathless feeling when they jump off, into the cold water, sinking deep.

It’s incredibly how the knot goes away once he resurfaces, and he’s not sure if it’s because he actually went through with something like this, or seeing Derek’s happy smile when his head bobs up out of the water, hair flat against his forehead.

  
**_And it drives me wild._ **

**Author's Note:**

> i write more on [tumblr](http://braedens.tumblr.com/)


End file.
